


Litany (in which certain things are crossed out)

by Chimerari



Category: Alice Nine, Bandom, Jrock, Music RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Mutant, Mutant Hate, Mutation, Telekinesis, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-30
Updated: 2012-02-06
Packaged: 2017-10-28 12:17:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/307803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chimerari/pseuds/Chimerari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They are family, friends, lovers. The silent devil and his maniac, protecting angel</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You don't have to listen to this on loop while reading, but here is a few songs that inspired me:   
> http://www.mediafire.com/?7hcyhxbbk7b9nlp

_This is about freedom, choices, love, salvation,_

 _And all the other lies this country has taught me._

 

 

 

 

 

Shou has a handful of life philosophies that he’s gained through years of hard-won experience.

Sleep when you can.  Eat when you can, keep track of your boots because walking bare-foot in this city can kill you, trust no one.

And most importantly, don’t get caught.

Until you do, then you do whatever it takes to get yourself out of there.

 

 

He hasn’t predicted complications such as Tora.

 

 

Okay, stop, rewind.

 

 

Long story short, eight months ago management fucked up, royally. And the police sniffed out their underground ring. They came loaded with the Blue Devil--- the only thing that could potentially kill a Mutant, whatever their abilities might be. One bullet, no bigger than a knuckle, and the poison went straight into the blood stream. The effect was a bit like someone taking a chainsaw to your DNA.  Because no matter how evolved a Mutant was, there would always be a part of them that was human, a part of them that was mortal.

Shou took one of those babies to the leg.

Didn’t die, obviously, but it completely messed up his biology, got laid up for three months.

They dragged him in, unconscious, and dumped him in a cell. He was feverish for a week, puking and sweating. And this tall dude just sat there and watched, silent as a ghost. So Tall Dude was unlucky enough to have to share with the newbie, Shou figured it out pretty quickly, and kept his back to the wall--couldn’t be too careful in times like this.

The pain got so bad around day two, it was all Shou could do not to scream. There was no point; they wouldn’t waste codeine on freaks like him. The bone was broken; normally it wouldn’t have taken a few hours for things to mend themselves. But now, now his cells were fighting against _each other_.

In the end Shou caved in first, fuck his pride.

‘Hey, buddy, think you can get me some water?’

Tall Dude stared some more before shuffling away. Shou heard a tap being turned on and signed in relief. Good to know his cell mate wasn’t deaf, or a complete asshole.

He put the plastic cup at the edge of Shou’s bunk then backed off. Shou gingerly picked it up and sniffed, it smelt normal at least. He gulped it down gratefully, the fluid balmy against his burning throat.

Tall Dude quite amiably refilled his cup a couple more times. But not without Shou asking first.

Weird.

 

 

What was even weirder, Tall Dude wasn’t a mutant.

He looked like any other guy, no hidden tail or scales for skin, no pupils that shifted colours or shapes. His movements didn’t suggest increased muscle power or lightning-fast reflexes. All in all, he was extraordinarily ordinary.  Shou knew how deceiving appearances could be, but he was quickly exhausting his mental checklist.

‘So, what could you do?’

The guy looked puzzled, but no offended, that was a good sign. Shou elaborated, ‘You know, abilities, powers, what is it that you can do and others can’t?’

He shook his head, frowning.

He wasn’t mute either, as Shou discovered some time ago, just, rather lacking in the art of conversation.

‘Put it this way, what did you do to get locked up in here?’

Tall Dude took so long to answer Shou was tempted to put down ‘mentally challenged’ as the answer.

‘This is…home.’

Well, either mentally challenged, or just plain mental.

 

 

Turned out that the dude wasn’t exactly wrong about this being his home. He actually grew up here, born and raised in a goddamn tin.

He didn’t tell Shou that, of course, but Shou would make a fine spy if he put his mind to it. Most people would be reluctant to talk to a Mutant, but Shou had that earnest, all-your- secrets-are-safe-with-me thing going on. It was probably the eyes, or so he had been told. It had earned him jobs and free meals in the past, getting the guards to spill the beans was a piece of cake.

His mum was a Mutant, that much was clear. No one knew about the dad, she took that secret to her grave. Died giving birth or executed straight after, who knew. The baby got bundled up and sent straight into a high security cell, and had stayed there until he was old enough to understand orders.

‘Never saw him doing anything out of the ordinary. Just a normal bloke really. You just can’t tell with these things can you? They might have it or they might not. Guess the men upstairs didn’t want to take a chance.’

Shou nodded along, sure, sure.

 

 

 

‘So you’ve never left this place?’

A small shake of the head.

‘Never been to the cities? Seen the lights? Man they’re awesome. I lived in this flat once, top floor, at night that’s all you can see, the lights, thousands of them underneath your feet…’

Dude looked as if he understood about three words out of the whole thing. It was a damn depressing sight.

 

 

So maybe Shou overplayed the injury a little, biding his time. He purposefully started eating less and less of the glob they called food as time went on. Slept for longer and looking disorientated when he was awake. He lost quite a bit of weight; the robes hung off his frame. The room smelled ripe with stale sweat and rotting wounds (thanks to the piece of chicken he had hidden underneath the bed)

Tall Dude (he actually didn’t have name, for real) looked, well not worried, but he sort of...hovered. He gave Shou his own share of juice instead of tap water, and put up with the stink and general nuisance admirably well.

Shou almost, almost felt bad. Frankly, if the situation was reversed, he’d probably leave the guy to rot. Maybe a pillow or two just to help him on his way.  Better a quick exit than a slow downward slide, he always thought.

 

 

‘Will you die?’ He suddenly blurted out one night.

Wow, tactful there. Shou had to cover up his snicker with a bout of coughing, ‘Probably, just my shitty luck.’

He didn’t look particularly saddened, just fixed a blank stare at Shou, unblinking. Shou barked out a laugh, ‘Dude, this is when you’re supposed to say, I don’t know, you’re sorry or some shit.’

He didn’t.

Seriously, it was a miracle that Tall Dude was even alive, not carved open on an autopsy table.  Which, admittedly, was where he’d end up, sooner or later.  

Shou turned over and huffed out a breath; well, not his problem really. He had plenty of his own to deal with.

 

 

 

 

 

Life tends to complicate even the best of plans---

 

Well, to be fair, the plan went as smoothly as it could, given the circumstances.

Shou hit the floor in the early hours of morning, unconscious. He was doing such a fine job of it Tall Dude didn’t need to be asked to get the guards. Three people came running to check out the situation, bleary eyed and irritated, probably expecting a cooling corpse by the rate Shou had been conveniently deteriorating.

They didn’t know what hit them.

Operating on instinct, Shou silently rolled to his feet when they argued among themselves about what to do next.  Before they could react, Shou kicked the first one in the stomach, sending him flying backwards, then spun in the other direction and landed a fist to someone’s temple—the guy dropped like a sack of potatoes. The third one was clearly the cleverest of the bunch and went for the alarm. Shou grabbed the guard’s extended arm, turned his back to him, and flipped the man over his shoulder. His head hit the floor with a dull thud, Shou pressed down on both of his carotids until he passed out for good. There was a thin sheen of sweat gathering along his forehead, Shou swiped at it crossly; there had been a time when putting down three men would be nothing but a warm-up; imprisonment really didn’t suit him.

He quickly proceeded to strip one of the guards out of his uniform, fingers steady as he pulled the garment over his head. Just then Tall Dude, who witnessed the whole episode with as much comprehension as a dazed rabbit, finally let out a startled noise; sounding more confused than scared. Shou didn’t even turn around to look, just put his finger to the red button and waited for a heartbeat. 

‘Okay, you can stay here and talk yourself out of this one, or you can come with me, now.’

With that, he sounded the alarm, pushed past Tall Dude, and started running.

He wasn’t exactly surprised when hurried footsteps followed him a moment later; annoyed, but not surprised.

Shou could only hope that enough guards would be drawn to the scene of crime, and leave fewer people manning the gates. 


	2. Chapter 2

And everything is happening at the wrong end of a very long tunnel—

 

 

They manage to hotwire a car a few miles down the road. After they’ve ditched the supply truck that they hijacked off the site (comes every Tuesday, Shou did his homework). Shou doesn’t take his foot off the accelerator until the engine dies out on that one, too. Then they climb out and start walking.

All the while Tall Dude remains silent and tense, staring straight ahead. Maybe the gravity of the situation has eventually sunk in, who knows. Shou is grateful nevertheless, the buzzing in his head is bad enough without any outside noises.

The great escape has been a mixture of careful calculation and sheer dumb luck.

The true art is to stay gone.

Shou grinds his teeth, tramping down the adrenaline rush that spike up again at that thought.

Besides him, Tall Dude winces. He’s probably never travelled this far, on foot or otherwise. And if Shou’s muscles are protesting by now, can’t imagine what the poor dude must be going through.  Serves him right, Shou snorts, see if he still wants to randomly trail after a stranger next time.

 

 

‘Dude, you’ve got to have a name, I ain’t gonna whistle every time I want your attention.’

Tall Dude is entirely too fascinated by the rows of groceries to participate in his own christening. Shou snaps his fingers impatiently,  

‘Oi, a name, pick one, now.’

He holds up a tin of fancy cat food, turning it this way and that, jumps when it rattles. Shou snatches it away mid-air, scowling. The label is written in some curly, lopsided language, none that Shou recognizes. There are a few English letters though, printed right at the end. Shou squints a little at the picture of a stripy cat,

‘T-O-R-A, Toora? Toura? Tawra? What the hell, Tora it is then. Don’t argue.’

The Newly Named Tora merely wrinkles his nose.

He does look up when Shou calls out though, thank god.

 

 

The number one rule about going on the run? You blend in and disappear right into the crowd.

Shou has done this enough times to know the drill. He dyes his hair back to a non-descriptive shade of brown, leaving the strands long and messy. The lip ring has to go, sadly. He thinks about giving himself a fake tattoo then decides against it; anything that draws extra attention is a no-no. An hour later, Shou looks into the mirror and sees nothing but an average teenager with baggy clothes and an easy smile. Mission accomplished.

As for Tora, dude stands out like a sore thumb anywhere; it’s the way he looks at you—intense is one way of putting it. Not to mention he’s got that unhealthy hue clinging to his skin, like a plant that’s been kept in the shade for too long. Shou gives in and uses the last of their stolen cash on a pair of cheap plastic frame. At least now he looks like a lanky geek, instead of a mentally unstable one.

Shou inspects his own handy work and grins,

‘Alright kiddo, listen up. Do not talk to anyone. It’s easier just to pretend you’re deaf. And do as I say, don’t ask stupid questions.’

Tora doesn’t say a thing, but Shou gets the distinct feeling that he’s barely suppressing an eye-roll.

 

 

The country has been shuffled and re-assembled countless times in the last few decades, new cities emerged and old ones abandoned. What used to be the capital is nothing but pebbles and rocks now, after a nuclear explosion that moved the entire continent a couple hundred metres to the right.  A nuclear explosion that, ironically, gave birth to Mutants.

The good thing is, no one is keeping track of anyone anymore. Yes the government tries to sweep the Mutants under the carpet like some dirty secrets. But the lucky few who don’t have any obvious mutation, can slip through the net unnoticed (The ones with wings are the first to get caught, poor bastards. Come on, wings, really?). The public are kept in the dark, while the special ops run around like headless chicken, trying to sniff out Mutants all by themselves. And the Mutants have long learned to live in between these two.

There is one minor complication though.

Shou sees his own face (bruised and gaunt, black hair tipped in acid green) staring back at him on TV, in the crappy diner they’re sitting in.  He manages not to choke on thin air, and shakes his head at the elderly owner,

‘Jeez, can you believe that? Robbery AND murder, the things kids get up to these days.’

 The owner joins in the conversation enthusiastically. Tora is quietly wolfing down his third helping of pancakes and bacon, full of blissful ignorance. Shou resists the urge to bang his head against the wooden table, repeatedly.

The coffee goes down scorching hot and tasteless.

 Shou strips off and has a quick rinse in the bathroom afterwards, scrubbing and going through the options in his head: getting a job is out of the question for now, he can hustle some money playing pool along the way but that’s hardly a permanent solution.  They need a car, something big enough for them to sleep in...Shou stops abruptly, hell, what is he thinking, the best plan is to get rid of the piece of luggage that’s currently eating them into bankruptcy.

Not at this very moment though, Shou muses, he needs a plan, a plan that will make sure no one can trace Tora back to him if he gets caught, which,  let’s face it, is more likely than not.

He’s brushing his teeth when he spots the beaten up Mustang sitting in the parking lot. Shou shakes the water off his face and starts whistling a tune.

Never let it be said that Shou isn’t an opportunist.  

 

 

‘Why did you follow me anyways? I could be a total nut job.’

‘You sound...nice.’

Shou almost collapses with laughter, ‘I’ve been called a lot of things, nice definitely isn’t one of them.’

‘No, it’s...’ Tora seems to struggle for words, his brow creasing. Shou takes pity on him,

‘Okay, I know, I look trust worthy. I mean, who can resist this face huh?’

People have the tendency to automatically smile back when faced with one of Shou’s toothy grins. Even Tora manages to lift up the corners of his mouth briefly, which, for some reason, makes Shou drum out a happy beat on the steering wheel. 

‘Awesome, there are two things you need to learn to survive in this big bad world. How to smile, and how to apologize. That’s one ticked off the list. Not bad.’

Tora looks away, pressing his hand and nose to the misting glass. 


	3. Chapter 3

Shou takes them to all the forgotten towns, the ones where you can chat up the waitresses and get free apple pies; the ones that don’t attract trouble and don’t go look for them either.

The ones where they could drift in and out without people asking too many questions.

It’s freeing, driving from one place to another, just a nameless stranger. For as long as he could remember Shou has lived here and there, for months at a time, doing odd jobs, some legal some not. The road has always been in his bones.

Travelling with someone else though, that’s new.

It’s not the most convenient thing in the world. Small matters like personal space suddenly become more apparent, and really fucking annoying at times. After countless mornings and afternoons stuck in a tight space, it’s like the theatre of too much information--- the abrupt, _overwhelming_ awareness that no one’s showered in the last week; or that they really should have stayed away from beans at lunch time. It’s disturbing, to say the least, when you become that well acquainted with someone else’s bodily function.

They can go on for days without bumping into another human being, let alone a working bathroom. One time Tora comes looking because Shou is apparently, taking too long in there. Shou barely has time to wash the stickiness off his hand, feeling like an awkward teenager being caught by his clueless sibling. Shou’s just glad that he’s at least alone in there, or he’ll have one hell of an explanation to give.

Naturally, Tora needs to be educated on the cardinal sin of interrupting a man and his down time.

More often than not, they end up camping out at night. Where there is nothing around them but miles and miles of bare ground, and the occasional foxes with shrewd eyes passing through. Tora gives him betrayed looks when Shou claims the backseat all to himself and leave Tora to sleep propped up at the front. But hey, not as if Tora can fit horizontally into the car by any stretch of imagination, that’s Shou’s theory and he’s sticking to it.

He still sleeps in bouts and fits, snaps awake every couple of hours, ears perked and eyes darting around him---his body going into defence mode whenever he’s in an unfamiliar environment. Tora, on the other hand, slumbers away peacefully throughout the night, not even a twitch. Shou sometimes wonders if Tora dreams at all, or if his brain tries to compensate at night, filling in the large chunks of blank in his life. 

Either way, Shou envies him for it.

 

 

 

Hindsight is the worst indulgence a man can have –

 

He thinks about it, just getting in the car and drive away without Tora.

There is no good reason for two of them to stick together; Tora is hardly a useful partner in crime. Without him, Shou could move faster, squirrel a bit more money away, maybe move into the cities and lay low for a while.

All he needs to do is to walk away.

On the other hand, it’s a lonely business, being on the run. Having someone to talk to is a welcome relief; even if Tora rarely contributes more to a conversation than the sky overhead. He at least appears to listen. Shou doesn’t know how much he actually understands, but that’s not the point. The point is being able to turn around and say dude, did you see that, while you’re stuck on an endless stretch of road, chasing the sun.

He’s still thinking about it a month later, while he’s smiling that particular smile at the curvy redhead who works at the bar. The smile that gets him free shots from bartenders up and down the country, this one included. She’s not stingy with her pour, and Shou is getting pleasantly buzzed; the air around him turning nectar-heavy and just the right side of too warm. His eyes start to linger at where her hair spills over the V of her top---she’s not wearing a bra---maybe he should ask what time she gets off, hmmm, gets off, fancy that.

‘Abandoned by your friend already?’

 Shou replies intelligently, ‘Huh?’

She juts out her chin; Shou turns to look at where she’s pointing. Sure enough, the spot next to him is empty. And he’s pretty sure Tora was there to start with.

‘Nature’s call, maybe?’

‘For the last half an hour?’ She lifts one sculpted eyebrow.

‘Hey, a man’s gotta do what he’s gotta do.’

Shou frowns inwardly. Then decides whatever, he ain’t no babysitter, Tora can take care of himself for one goddamn night.

5 minutes later he’s peering into the bathroom, blinking away the harsh florescent lights. One stall is closed; he taps on it once and gets a heart-felt fuck off in return. Okay, not Tora then.

He checks the dingy hallway, none, nada, nothing but his own swaying shadow.

Weird. Maybe he’s gone outside for some fresh air?

The one lone lamp next to the bar entrance flickers. Shou spots the car easily, no sign of Tora.

He doubts he’s had that much to drink, but he can feel the beginning of a headache growing behind his eyes like a physical thing, so he ends up informing the lamp of all the physical harm he’s going to inflict on Tora, slowly and painfully, as soon as he finds him.

Christ in a bucket, as if he doesn’t have enough problems already. Shou flails about for the door handle and gives it a violent jerk, Damn morons and their complete lack of common sense.

The car streaks out of the parking lot like a scolded cat.

He’s so lost in the thoughts running through his head (kidnapped, got lost, knifed in the gut by a druggie), when a figure appears, whited out in the glare of his headlights. Automatically, Shou slams on the brakes and spins the wheel, the back end of the Mustang fishtailing on the sandy road.

"What the fuck, man?" Shou hollers, leaping from the car and stalking over to the figure in three quick strides (who else would stand in the middle of a dark, desolate road?). He grabs a fistful of Tora’s shirt and takes a wild swing.  It connects with a dull thud, Tora stumbles sideways, face shadowed.   

They’re both breathing heavily by the time they lock eyes. Shou flexes his fingers, unsure of what to do next. He is shaken and enraged, overwhelmed by the fact this person, this stranger he went through the trouble of smuggling out, could so carelessly wander off without so much as a by your leave.

This is beyond un-fucking-grateful. This is...Shou pulls him in by the lapel and shakes him once, hard.

‘The hell do you think you’re doing?!’

Tora stares back with dark eyes, he looks uncertain, almost confused. A bruise already forming along his left cheek. Shou throws his hands up,

‘Son of a--, do you ever think? With that thing between your ears? Don’t answer that, of course you don’t.’ He starts pacing; Tora gawps like he’s from another planet, unaccustomed to all these earthling emotions. Which, he sort of is, ha bloody ha.

The silence just pours gasoline on Shou’s temper; He takes one more step towards Tora, who doesn’t even have the wits to back away in self-defence. Shou can feel the tension coiling up; some part of him really wants to work it loose on Tora’s stupid face.

In the end he snaps,

‘Get in the damn car.’

Tora does.

Shou throws himself into the driver’s seat angrily, and Tora has to scramble for purchase before Shou peels out, tires shrieking.

He goes through the gears in exactly 30 mile increments, at 120 he can’t even feel the road beneath him anymore, just his heart pushing against his ribcage.

Tora’s face is white, well, whiter than usual when they eventually slow down. Shou breathes out a whistling sign.

‘Okay, okay, next time, if, I don’t know, the little voices in your head tell you to go somewhere, **tell me** first.’

He doesn’t wait for an answer, just snatches up his tooth brush and storms off.

Before Shou falls into an exhausted sleep that night, he thinks he might have heard a hesitant sorry from the front seat. 

Or it could be the residual alcohol talking.

 

 

The first time they stay at a motel posh enough to have a working TV, the little talking box almost freaks Tora out.

Shou comes back from food hunt to find Tora desperately trying to open the TV up, lines of frustration showing on his forehead.

He hasn’t laughed that much in a long time.

Later, when he’s still wheezing, Shou reassures him in between fresh bouts of giggles that no, there are no thumb-sized humans trapped inside, Tora’s conscience is clear.

Tora doesn’t look convinced, but he’s successfully distracted by the wonders of glazed donuts.

It’s the small things that fascinate him, like that one time, a butterfly lands on his right knee when they’re sitting shoulder to shoulder in a grassy field. Shou snorts, saying something about the poor bug mistaking Tora for a _flower_. Tora just keeps absolutely still, even his breathing starts to come in little shallow puffs. His fingers twitch in his lap, wanting to reach out but not daring to risk it.

It flutters away after a while, a little dot of colour drifting up and up. Tora follows it with his eyes, mouth slightly ajar.

Shou senses disappointment in the ensuring silence, he coughs awkwardly, and pats him on the shoulder.

‘Dude, it’s a butterfly, they don’t make for good pets, yeah?’

Tora looks over, mouthing the word silently. Shou grins, ‘Buuutterfly, yep, all the little girls love them. Come on princess, we’ll find you a pony next, how’s that?’

At this rate, it won’t be long before Shou can write a whole book on How to Reintroduce Aliens into Human society.

It gets frustrating at times though; there are things one simply cannot explain to an outsider, not with words anyways. Like the sunset reflected off the top of a skyscraper like the vibration of a motorbike underneath your skin, like the feel of another body moving against your own, whether in violence or passion, the same rush of heat it brings.

You can’t explain any of that if you haven’t lived it. 


	4. Chapter 4

By the time winter rolls around, Shou has had enough of the extended road-trip. It’s not just the weather, but the quiet is getting to him, weighing him down. He craves the dignity of a roof, having four walls and a pipe full of running water.

At night they huddle for some much needed warmth, sharing whatever body heat they can generate between them. Even through layers of clothes and blankets, stray elbows and knees still jam into vulnerable places. And consider how bony Tora is, that’s no joke. Shou has taken to lie almost on top of him, just to pin down at least some of the offending limbs.

Neither of them sleeps well for the first three days; afterwards they’re just too tired to care about much else. More often than not, Shou wakes up with a cold nose pressing into the back of his neck, or realizing his fingers have wormed their way into little pockets of warmth, like Tora’s armpits, which, ew, gross.

In the mornings, the road grows steadily glossier with frost.

Shou holds out for another month or so before he caves in, spinning the wheel to the right instead of left at the next junction. He speeds up a little, already cheered up by the prospect of getting somewhere with an actual postcode soon. Tora eyes him curiously, but doesn’t seem to object—Shou’s getting pretty good at figuring out the subtle shifts in his facial expression.

 

 

The first mouthful of heavily polluted air has Shou grinning from ear to ear. Man he’s missed this; the buzzing, the sound and smell of **life** \--- **-** so much of it that the city is almost bursting at the seams. There is an underlying rhythm, restlessly pulsing away beneath their feet.

Neon-lights flash across Tora’s upturned face in a dizzying swirl, who, by the way, isn’t quite gawping but damn close.

‘Welcome, to the magical land, princess.’ Shou throws his arms out and does a mocking little bow.

Tora shivers as if being jolted awake, looking for all the world like a novice sailor getting swept up by the sea, the corners of his eyes tight with tension.

 

 

The motel bathroom smells funky, and the tap drips. But Shou nearly weeps at the beauty of a running shower. Not to mention the twin beds. He throws himself onto the mattress and does a handstand, just because he can. The frame bangs against the wall when he bounces up and down to test the springs.

 Soon enough someone next door pounds on the wall in annoyance. Shou grins wickedly and shouts ‘OH FUCK!’ at the top of his lungs, right before he collapses into a giggling heap.

The humour is lost on Tora completely.

 

 

Somewhere in the dead of the night, Shou feels the mattress dip. He peels one eye open with effort,

‘What the...your bed is over there, genius.’

Tora pauses, halfway through the motion of lifting the cover. He reminds Shou of a puppy that’s just been shoved off its favourite spot on the sofa.

Shou thumps his head against the pillow once,

‘Fine, if you hog the blanket I’ll kick you to the floor.’

Tora doesn’t steal the blanket; instead, he seems to think he IS the blanket. Shou wakes up feeling overheated; one of Tora’s knees digging into his bladder alarmingly.

Shou yanks back the curtains in revenge, and proceeds to sing obnoxiously loud in the shower. When he finally comes out, dripping water all over the place, Tora has buried his head underneath the thin pillow.

 

 

 

‘Now hold still. Not gonna be my fault if you lose an ear.’  Shou gestures with the cheap razor. Tora blinks owlishly, half of his face covered in soap studs.  He looks increasingly lost as Shou takes hold of his chin, tilting this way and that to get a better angle. The first slide of blade against skin makes Tora jumps a bit, reaching up to touch the nearly bared skin. Shou scowls,

‘Oi, what did I say? Don’t, Move.’

Tora gives him a sheepish look before dutifully craning his neck back. Shou huffs out a sign,

‘Jeez, I need a chainsaw to hack through all this.’

They fall into an easy silence, save the occasional tapping of razor against the sink. Shou expects Tora to tense up as they go on, but he stays pliant, if a bit confused. The curve of his throat strangely vulnerable in the dim light, a vein jumps lightly at the corner of his jaw.

He has no idea has he? Shou muses; no idea that his life is literally in my hands. One nip and he’ll be bleeding out on the floor. No one will even know about it.

Tora glances at him then, probably wondering why Shou’s stopped. The lacy shadows cast by his eyelashes fluttering. The moment stretches on like an animal in the sun, languid and half curious.

It’s not the first time Shou has held someone’s fate in his very palm. But the blind trust is almost terrifying in its absolution.

And how on earth do you begin to un-teach such a thing?

Shou doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until he has to consciously inhale to speak,

‘Don’t get too comfortable there. Next time you’re doing it yourself.’

Tora looks puzzled, Shou shakes his head,

‘ **Because** , bushy is not a good look. People prefer something a bit more civilized, especially your future employer.’

Life really is becoming more and more surreal.

 

 

 

The club owner eats up Shou’s stories like an eager pet. He isn’t too sure about Shou’s tall and silent shadow though.

‘Oh don’t mind him,’ Shou leans closer to whisper, ‘my cousin, not the brightest tool in the box. But you won’t find a better bouncer anywhere. Besides, we won’t even cost you a penny. Just looking for a place to stay for a while.’

The owner relents, ‘alright, but if he gets into any trouble. I’m firing both of you.’

The next day, Shou starts to move their (mostly stolen) possessions into the spare room upstairs, gets rid of the roaches and scrubbing the floor with bleach. Tora, on the other hand, jumps on to the only chair in the room and refuses to get back down until the creepy crawlies are out of sight.

Seriously, Shou has collected enough prank material for an entire lifetime.

 

 

‘Well, look at you, almost like a real boy now.’ Shou grins, messing up his bangs to give it a dishevelled air. Tora frowns down at the buttons on his shirt, and begins to yank at them. Shou kicks him in the shin none too gently.

‘Dude, what look are you aiming for, a hooker? Leave the damn shirt alone.’

Tora stops, still eying the first two buttons (tastefully undone by yours truly, if Shou may say so himself) with suspicion.

‘First day as a member of the working class, see how far you’ve come, princess?’ Shou checks his reflection for the last time and strides towards the door, smile ready. 


	5. Chapter 5

Tora hasn’t got into trouble yet a week in, but he does draw more attention from certain staff members.

‘He’s staring at me!’ Amy hisses, her fake lashes picking up a stiff wind every time she blinks. Shou rubs her bare shoulder reassuringly.

‘Can you blame him? It’s quite a view.’

She rolls her eyes so hard it might have dislodged something, ‘Oh please. I know _that_ look. Not this one, he’s about to run away screaming if I walk up to him.’

Shou throws his head back, laughing whole-heartedly, ‘He’s probably never seen tits before. And now he’s working in a topless bar? It takes some getting used to.’

Amy puts a manicured hand over her ample bosom, ‘No way, he’s not a virgin is he?’

Shou snorts, ‘I don’t think he’s ever held a lady’s **hand** , poor deprived kid.’

Amy bites her lips and titters away in 4 inch heels, dirty martin on a tray. Shou turns around, smiles extra big for the next customer, who orders a cocktail with an unpronounceable name.

 

 

 

They bump into a stray on their way back from grocery shopping one afternoon, a mangy thing with floppy ears. Shou crouches down a little and whistles,

‘Hey, hey boy.’

The dog doesn’t come any closer, but it doesn’t move away either. Its nose twitching, probably investigating the food supply the humans are carrying. Shou fishes out a piece of beef jerky and throws it over. The dog immediately forgets about being shy and darts after it.

Three pieces later it’s letting Shou scratch behind its ears, making content little noises. Shou looks up in time to see Tora taking a step back, clearly intimidated by this four legged creature. Shou lifts an eyebrow,

‘Dude, it’s a dog.’

‘No.’ Tora says it as if it’s something to be debated over. Shou clicks his tongue impatiently.

‘Come on, it won’t bite.’

After much hesitation, Tora holds out a single finger. Shou puts one hand behind his elbow and holds him in place, encouraging the dog to sniff at him. The dog soon starts licking the inside of Tora’s wrist happily. Tora startles, then carries on petting its furry head woodenly, while Shou looks on in silent glee.  

An alien meets a dog---that sounds just like the beginning of a bad joke.

The dog moves to follow when they stand up to go, Shou bends down, feeding it another piece of meat,

‘Sorry buddy, don’t think Dave’s gonna be too happy if I bring you back.’

The dog looks at them with moist eyes, tail going a mile a minute. Shou catches Tora’s expression and groans,

‘Aw come on, not you too. Ain’t fair to gang up on me like this.’

He doesn’t know who’s more disappointed when they finally pull away, Tora or the dog. 

 

 

 

They eat apple pies straight out of the package with plastic forks; they watch daytime TV before the shift starts (‘Man, I don’t remember they were THIS shitty before.’ Shou grumbles, while Tora follows every clichéd plot with rapt attention) Shou even lets Tora have a sip of beer the other day, who splutters at the foreign taste. Shou calls him a pussy and gets slapped on the wrist by all the female staff within earshot; Tora still doesn’t know where to look when the girls are in their work gear, which just make them tease him all the more mercilessly---flipping their hair and putting hands on various body parts. A flustered Tora looking to Shou for rescue is becoming a regular sight.

Naturally, Shou decides to step in and solve the problem, once and for all.

Or so he hopes.

On a rare night off, he drives them both to one of the more exotic parts of town, where ladies parade around in their five inch heels and ten inch skirts, all flirty eyes and dirty promises. Not that their work place is a much classier establishment, but mixing business with pleasure is never a good idea, as Shou has learnt from experience.

He parks the car in a secluded spot, orders Tora to stay put, then goes off to find a target because apparently, he’s a goddamn saint. As he walks down the street Shou realizes that he doesn’t know what type of women Tora likes, he wonders for a second whether Tora likes women at all. But hey, gotta start somewhere right?

Eventually, he picks a brunette with an impressive rack and bright red lipstick. She shrugs at Shou’s request and walks with him back to the Mustang. 

‘What type of sex?’

Shou hands her a wad of bills, tells her the standard, and keep going until the money’s up. Dude is new to this, so you know, go slow, or something.

‘Sure,’ she smiles, ‘I’ll make this the best present you’ve ever got for your friend.’

Tora stares, open mouthed, when the girl climbs into the backseat with a wink. Shou motions for him to get out and pulls him in by the elbow, whispering,

‘ **Relax** , buddy, no one is putting a gun to your head. It will be fun, I promise.’

He feels a hesitate tag on his sleeve when he turns to go, Shou pulls a face, half appalled and half amused,

‘Hell no, I’m not holding your hand through this. Just, do what comes naturally?’

 The prep talk is even more awkward than he imagined. Without another word, Shou shoves Tora into the backseat too and slams the door shut. Hoping against hope that the girl, at least, knows what to do.

He buys himself an over-priced drink with what’s left of the money, waits for a respectable length of time before picking his way back, humming a little.

The girl has left; Shou can just about make out the back of Tora’s head, leaning against the window. He grins and jerks that side of the door open, Tora almost face plants to the ground and catches himself with some flailing. Before he can make fun of Tora’s clumsiness, Shou unintentionally gets a whiff of the air inside, and promptly starts to make gagging sounds.  

‘Jesus Christ, air it out after, will ya? There are some things I do _not_ need to know.’

Tora doesn’t blush at the comment. Even if he does, it’s hard to tell with the spots of color still warming his cheeks. There is an almost bruised look to his mouth, and that’s definitely a hickey peeking out from beneath his collar. Shou whistles,

‘Bit of a wild cat isn’t she?’

They drive back in easy silence. Shou doesn’t bother with stupid questions like ‘how was it?’ He remembers his own first time, being sixteen and drunk on the new discovery---awkward and fumbling as it was. The mechanisms didn’t matter in the least; he could have walked on water for all the giddy excitement afterwards.

It feels practically heroic really; guiding someone through every new experience in life. 

 

 

 

 

Every cliché has a grain of truth to it. That's why they're clichés---

 

One morning Shou gets woken up by the sound of pebbles rolling along pavements---It’s been so long since it last rained it takes Shou a while to work out what the noise is. For one groggy moment, his eyes track the movement of murky water sliding down the windowpanes without any conscious thought, almost hypnotized by the rhythm.

Then the realization hits him: Tora is curiously absent.

Assuming he’s gone to the bathroom, Shou stretches languidly, wriggling his toes, rejoicing in the fact that he doesn’t need to be anywhere on such a miserable day.

He goes to open the windows for some fresh air, and almost stumbles in his amazement.

Tora is standing outside, arms spread out, face tilted towards the sky. God knows how long he’s been there; he looks soaked to the bone.

Shou leans out a bit, shielding his eyes,

‘Dude! Have you lost your mind? Get back inside!’

Tora startles at the noise, then whirls around, flapping his arms up and down at Shou, grinning like a lune,

‘Water!’

Shou’s glad that the streets are empty at least, or he might just die from embarrassment.

‘Yes, well spotted. Come back before you drown out there!’

Tora doesn’t move. Only signals for Shou to join him. Frustrated, Shou swears under his breath, slamming the window shut.

Fine, see if he cares if that dumbass dies from hypothermia.

He lasts for about three minutes, before he’s dashing downstairs into the chill, ready to bodily drag Tora in. Within seconds his hair gets plastered to his scalp by icy rainwater, it’s coming down so hard he’s having difficulty hearing himself.

‘I’m not taking you to the hospital if you---’

The sentence never gets finished. Before Shou registers what’s happening (later he’ll wonder if his reflexes have chosen that precise moment to go on holiday), Tora has grabbed him by the shoulders and is bending down, head tilted to the side…

The angle is awkward and they end up bumping noses more than anything. Shou staggers back, opening and closing his mouth several times before finally locating his vocal cords, torn between amusement and incredulity.

‘Jesus Holy…Did you? Were you trying to? Kiss me? IN THE FRIGGING RAIN?’

Tora looks on, uncomprehending and slightly hurt, judging by the droop in the corners of his mouth.

Shou slaps a hand across his forehead,

‘Just…get inside first.’

They clean up as much as they can with some ratty towels. But the sodden clothes have to come off. So they sit on top of the futon in nothing but their boxers for now, waiting for things to dry. Seeing the expression on Tora’s face, Shou shakes his head,

‘Well, care to tell me why?’

Tora contemplates for a moment, frowning in concentration. When he finally replies, it’s obvious that he’s picking the words with difficulty.

‘The…box? People do it, always.’

Shou tries, he really tries not to laugh; several of his ribs might be in danger of cracking though.

‘Okay, this is IT. No more chick flicks for you.’ He swipes at his eyes, tearing up from the effort of keeping a straight face,

 ‘You’re watching shit getting blown up on TV and nothing else, for the rest of your LIFE.’

After he’s managed to get his breathing under control, Shou puts a hand on Tora’s shoulder, squeezing a little,

‘Man, never thought I’d say this but, it’s not something you just randomly, do. Okay? You kiss your girlfriend, boyfriend, hook-up, whatever, but not strangers.’

‘Strangers?’

‘People you don’t know.’

Tora gives Shou a look that plainly says don’t be ridiculous (how the hell does he manage that?) Shou shrugs,

‘That’s different. I’m like, your brother. Hell, I practically **raised** you. Raised you up from a clueless little lamb, didn’t I?’ He smiles, somewhat awkwardly; a bubble swells in his chest, warm and unexpected.

Shou refuses to call it pride, but it’s a close thing.


	6. Chapter 6

Tomorrow's just another chance to fuck up worse than you've done today –

 

 

 

They’re picking up their usual supplies (milk, cereal, and enough candy to feed a small nation) when Shou feels the hair on the back of his neck lift up, adrenaline kick-floods his system. Without a backward glance, he dumps the trolley, grabs Tora, and hightails out of the store as fast as they can.

They take the shortest route back, treading gingerly through dingy alleyways. Shou flattens his back against a wall whenever there is an unexpected sound, checking both ways before darting across the street. All the while he prays there is enough fuel in the Mustang; walking into a petrol station is the last thing they want right now--- where there will be security cameras and eye witnesses all around.

They don’t bother to collect their belongings, just strap themselves in and set off. So far Tora hasn’t asked for explanations, good, because Shou doesn’t have any, except the fact that his instincts have never been wrong before.

They are half way across the city when Shou narrows his eyes at the rearview mirror: three cars are trailing after them, keeping at an inconspicuous distance. Shou swears under his breath, and floors the gas. Tora presses a hand to his temple, flinching a bit when the Mustang sways violently, speeding past the row of cars in front.

Better to lose the tail before they reach the highway, Shou decides, darting into a side street. The sound of drivers honking their horns in annoyance chases them all the way down. Their pursuers are successfully thrown for a few precious moments, scrambling to catch up.  

As they emerge from the other end of the narrow road, they almost get smacked in the side by a black vehicle, presumably trying to do exactly that. ‘Damn scalphunters!’ Shou yells over the screeching of tiles. He catches a vicious glint in the mirror a second too late, his warning shout drowned out by the sound of glass shattering.  Tora, by some miracle, manages to duck just in time.

‘Stay down!’ Shou frees a hand off the steering wheel, stuffing as much of Tora as possible into the footwell---- not the easiest task at the best of times. A bullet grazes his shoulder as he tries; the wound barely stings, already healing by the time Shou looks down: standard issue then, not the Blue Devil, thank god for small mercies. Obviously it’s only the police who get alerted this time.

They fishtail onto the main road just as the light turns red; pedestrians scatter as the Mustang sails straight on. Before they can clear the crossing though, a truck from the opposite direction charges forward. Shou slams on the brake as he frantically spins the wheel, putting the Mustang into a sideway slide to avoid collision. A second car smashes nose first into the truck, the momentum lifts the vehicle clean off the ground.

It’s as if everything is happening in slow motion, time stretches into infinity. Shou watches the ruined piece of machinery hurtling towards them, transfixed . There isn’t any life-flashing-in-front-of-your-eyes epiphany, just meaningless noises magnified a thousand fold; a mosquito swirling inside his skull. 

They’re absolutely going to die, and there is nothing to be done.

 He doesn’t know how long it takes for him to realize the car is still there, suspended in mid-air. In fact, all the debris around it is frozen in motion too--- pieces of broken steel and glass cupped by an invisible hand.

Shou’s foot automatically presses down before his brain makes the decision. Once they squeeze through the gap, a deafening boom rings out, the ground beneath them shaking with the impact.

Exactly the sort of noise 900 pounds of metal would make when it crash-lands.

Shou doesn’t look back, he **drives**.

 

 

The Mustang skids to a stop in the middle of god-knows-where, coughing out its last shuddering breath. Shou’s out of the car before the tires have stopped spinning, he starts pacing aimlessly, all jittery hands and fever-bright eyes. 

‘What the hell was that?!’

Shou barks out without looking at Tora, who is slowly climbing out, face white as ghost.

‘What, the, actual, fuck? I’ve finally cracked haven’t I? I’m imaging things.’  He mashes a fist into his own eye socket, hard enough to make his eye stream.

Tora frowns, saying nothing. Shou grabs him by the shoulders, gesturing helplessly,

‘Talk, damn it!’

Tora hesitates before lifting a hand, palm sliding along Shou’s jaw. For a few seconds all Shou can do is stare, feeling utterly lost for the first time in as long as he could remember. 

Then it happens.

At first Shou has the most bizarre sensation of everything…doubling. The soup of conflicting emotions almost knocks him off his feet. Soon enough he realizes with a jolt that it’s more of an echo, muted.

And it’s not coming from within him.

Shou gasps, his own hands flying up to grip Tora’s, whose eyes are closed, brows drawing tighter and tighter.

The full impact hits him then.

He’s being crowded in on all sides: panic, worry, fear, and this overwhelming sense of needing to do something, anything, not ready for a short goodbye or any other goodbyes, until it’s the only conscious thought at the forefront of his mind, a pinpoint. 

A key finally slots into a rusty lock, springing it open.

It’s a peculiar feeling, weightless and grounding at the same time. How his mind turns into a tangible, living thing, able to seize and hold and smash…

Shou reels back, snatching his hands away. Tora lets out a pained whimper, slumping forward. Shou catches him without thinking, and promptly gets swamped by another wave of…something---not words exactly, just shades and fragments, all jumbled together, pulling him under.

Making him stay.

To this day Shou doesn’t know what makes him surge up, what mad impulse drives him to blindly crush their lips together, raking his fingers through Tora’s hair, damp with sweat. It isn’t even coordinated enough to be kiss, just panting and shaking into each other’s open mouth, nothing polite or slow or gentle about it.

‘How…’ Shou hisses out, pulling back shortly to tighten his grip, fingers digging in, ‘never seen anything like it.’ Another biting kiss, ‘Fucking devil’s child, you.’

Tora breathes out, leaning his forehead against Shou’s. He still hasn’t said a word, but relief seeps out of his very skin, quite literally, like light peeking through the cracks on a wall.

 

 

 

‘Now, make it move.’

Shou holds out a piece of pebble, feeling like a dog owner half-heartedly waving a  biscuit around. Tora wrinkles his nose and shrugs.

‘Use that freaky brain of yours to do some thinking for once,’ Shou cuffs him one on the head, ‘they will be hunting us for real now, after your little act of god. And I need you to be able to switch it on,’ he snaps his fingers, ‘like that. No buts or maybes.’

Tora screws his eyes shut, clearly concentrating. For a moment he even stops breathing.

The stone doesn’t so much as tremble in Shou’s palm.

‘Okay, remember how you felt back then. I think shit-scared about sums it up…’ Shou barely has time to whip his head to the side, narrowly misses being hit in the nose by the flying pebble. Tora looks away, swallowing, his Adam’s apple bobs once. Shou lets out a sigh, rubbing a hand over his eyes.

‘Or maybe not.’

Suddenly he gets an idea, ‘hey, you know that trick you did, like, showing me what was going on inside your head. Does it go both ways?’

Tora considers it for a minute, ‘I can know what you’re…’ he taps his temple eloquently, ‘but not…all the time.’

‘Worth a try.’ Shou cuts him off, snatching up Tora’s right hand to plant it firmly against his forehead. He’s fully aware how faintly ridiculous this looks, but desperate times and all.

He breathes in, and lets his eyes fall closed. It’s a trick he’s done countless times before: how to shut out everything else going on in the background, the shapes and colours and noises fading into a blur. How to wipe his mind clean---fear or adrenaline won’t sustain you, they can only tire you out before long.

You can put out a fire, but you can’t defeat an ocean, kiddo. Shou smiles inwardly at those familiar words.  Now he can only hope the same message is getting through.

He vaguely registers the loss of warmth when Tora’s hand drops away.

What he doesn’t see, is when the pebble wobblingly floats up, hovering in the air behind him. 


	7. Chapter 7

Someone once told me that explaining is an admission of failure –

 

 

 

 

Shou doesn’t know whether to be shocked or amused when Tora manages to unlock a car with his mind on the very first go. He always thought the more delicate stuff would take longer.

‘Born to be a thief, I’d say.’ Shou grins, Tora doesn’t waste any time in learning over the passenger seat to land a smack square on his mouth. Shou scowls,  trying in vain to hide a blush. Really, it should bother him more that they slip into this so easily;  this strange, blooming thing. He can’t find a name for it,  but why should he? They’re Mutants for starters, they are not supposed to fit into rules and boundaries.

It feels alarmingly natural to let his hands roam a little, slipping past worn fabric to get to some skin. They neck like teenagers in the backseat, which is plain silly;  because Shou is so not sixteen anymore, and past things like sneaking around in a car or rutting against a warm body, clothes hastily shoved out of the way.

Or so he thought.

Other than that, they’re back to square one. Chasing their own shadows on empty roads, the sun on their backs and no destination in sight, except keeping their heads above water.

No matter which radio station they switch to, the same message comes through at hourly intervals:

‘Identified as two men in their twenties…armed and highly dangerous. We urge our citizens to report any sightings without delay,  by dialling the number 2398.  There will be a substantial reward for anyone who is willing to come forward with further information regarding…’

Shou jerks forward to switch it off, the little plastic dial drops off the dashboard with a pathetic crunch when he bangs his hand against it.

‘God sometimes I wish I’ve never met you, nothing but trouble.’ He smiles like a shooting star, brilliant and already fading, ‘never liked running you know? Always prefer to meet things head-on.’

But? Tora tilts his head, curious.

Shou turns away without another word. He doesn’t say, other times I look at you, and think  I can go on like this forever.

It sounds scary enough in his own head.

 

 

 

 

They are borrowing (Shou does the air quote thing and finds it hilarious) their third car in as many weeks when Shou hears a gasp,

‘Phoenix?!’

He spins around, heart in his teeth. It’s been almost two years now since someone has called him that.

A podgy, middle-aged man jogs up to him, double chin jiggling, ‘My god it is you isn’t it?’ He opens his arms wide, poised for a hug. Shou grabs one of them, twists and bends, followed by a solid kick to the groin. The guy doubles over, wheezing.

‘Some guts you have to show your face, ’ Shou snarls, gripping the back of his neck and forces their eyes to meet, ‘that, is for landing me in the Hole.’

‘….Phoenix, buddy, hear me out…’the guy starts bubbling as soon as he gets his breath back, face shiny with sweat, ‘I fucked up, I know I did. And I’ve been looking for you guys everywhere. I swear!’ he hastily adds upon seeing Shou’s darkened expression.

‘Well, Jackal is dead, saw it with my own eyes,’ Shou spits out, ‘think Marcus got away. Erika didn’t show that night, you better pray that she’s alright. Or I will rip you to fucking pieces.’

The guy takes a step back, bottom lip trembling,

‘Thank…thank god you made it out in one piece, at least.’ He laughs, a nervous sound, ‘So, eh, what do you do now?’

Shou narrows his eyes in suspicion, ‘Just passing through. What about you?’

‘I’m…’he casts a wary glance around, making sure they’re alone, then leans closer cautiously, ‘I’ve been meaning to ask, would you? I mean, just one night. I’ve got a new joint now.’

Shou watches him for a moment, unblinking. The other man swallows, ready to back away when Shou suddenly flashes him a grin, teeth white as bone.

‘One night you say?’

Vigorous nodding, ‘I’ll pay you the same rate.’

Shou’s eyebrows climb up.

‘Double, I mean.’ He quickly corrects himself, hands rubbing together fretfully.

‘I don’t want a cent from you.’ Shou takes a fistful of his collar and drags him closer, who lets out a weak squeal, ‘You can do me a favour, though.’

‘Wha….what?’

‘Two passports, clean, no questions asked. You can do that?’

The man wipes his brows a few times, wincing, ‘it ain’t easy these days, Phoenix my man, not like before…’

‘I didn’t ask if it’s easy. I said can you do it.’

He chews on the inside of his cheeks, looking positively constipated. But Shou knows how much he makes a night, made. He’s worth way more than what he asks for.

‘I’ll do it.’ He says it too quickly, the words jumbled, as if afraid that he might change his mind half way through, or Shou might.

‘Then I’ll be there.’ Shou snatches up the card that’s being held out to him. He closes his fist around the piece of paper, ‘Tomorrow. Kicks off at 10, right?’

‘Yes, yes, just like old times.’

 

 

 

 

They are getting picky at the entrance. Shou notices. People are let in one at a time, squeezing past a turnstile. Shou frowns, vaguely recalling something about tightened security from the little chat yesterday: Mutants can go in without a hitch. Any human needs to be accompanied by a Mutant, or no deal.

Shou pulls Tora closer, whispering, ‘Pretend you are my honoured guest tonight. Believe it or not, even Mutants are scared of the ones they’ve never seen before.’

They watch the girl in front gingerly putting a finger in a scanner. A second later, the machine beeps and the girl walks through. Shou quickly steps in front of Tora, tossing a harmless smile at the bouncer, who doesn’t bat an eye, only points to the scanner in bored silence.

He sticks a finger in, and feels a pin prick: so, a blood test to distinguish humans from Mutants, neat.

The scanner confirms his status sure enough. Just before the bouncer turns to Tora, Shou claps a hand over his shoulder,

‘Sorry, he’s with me, and you know.’ He mouths ‘bad with needles’ in an exaggerated manner, as if the mere mention could trigger a panic attack from his friend. The bouncer snorts, let’s Tora in with an eye roll.

They push through the steel double doors, and it feels like being hit by a wall of sounds: throbbing bass, rolling drums, people shouting over the deafening music to be heard. Tora nearly stumbles, Shou glances back, smirking.

‘Not your scene, huh?’

Tora rubs his temples, no doubt trying to ease the avalanche of heightened emotions coming from all around him. Shou slows down, concerned, ‘It gets pretty crazy near the front. I’m warning you now. Wanna stay at the back?’

Tora shakes his head, jaw set. Shou relents, pushing and shoving their way to the centre of the space, where there is a raised empty platform.

‘Alright, stay where I can see you. Don’t talk to anyone, and absolutely don’t drink anything anyone offers you.’

He turns to go, Tora grips his wrist tight, a question etched into the lines on his forehead. It could be ‘what are you doing?’ or ‘are you sure this is a good idea?’ or even ‘where is the bathroom?’ for all Shou knows.

‘It’s the only idea I have, wonderboy.  We can hardly sell your pretty ass on the street can we?’  Shou grins and pulls Tora down for a quick peck.

‘I’ll be fine. Been doing this for half of my life. Don’t you worry.’ He pries Tora’s fingers off gently, then suddenly grips back, eyes turning stern,  

‘And don’t, I repeat, **don’t** help me. I’ll know if you do.’


	8. Chapter 8

The crowd is buzzing, getting louder by the minute; pushing and shoving to get closer to the platform. Crisp notes are being slapped into palms by the handful, passing from one to another. People cursing and shouting out numbers, the shrill sound almost immediately gets drowned out. 

Tora wills himself to stay still, hunching his shoulders to avoid bodily contact as much as possible. Giddy excitement still trickles through from all sides, by the time a voice booms overhead, he’s almost woozy with it.

‘Folks! You’re in for a treat tonight!’

More shouting, a beefy guy next to Tora spits on the floor, displaying exactly four yellow teeth,

‘Just get the damn show on the road already!’

The announcer is fighting to raise his voice above the hysteria now, sounding distorted and tinny, ‘You’ve heard the rumours! Make no mistake, back for one night only, I give to you, the undefeated champion---’ a deliberate pause,

 ‘Phoenix!’

The warehouse goes wild, Tora can literally feel a film of red clouding his vision. Without any warning the central platform gets flooded by bright lights, all eyes are drawn to the figure who steps onto the lit arena: head bowed, chest bare, messy hair falling into his eyes.

A shiver runs through the crowd, hushed murmurs filling the air--- _Phoenix, The Phoenix? He’s back!_ _The stories they tell_ \---then Shou lifts his head with a small, foxy grin. A gin that the spectators eat right up as if it’s some kind of secret salute, personally directed at each and every one of them, and them alone.

 

 

 

He locks eyes with Tora---tiny and pale amidst hundreds of upturned faces---and gives him a quick nod. That’s all he’s got time for before a huge, spikey lump steps into the glare, grunting with effort, piggish eyes sunken deep within the misshapen skull.

Shou watches those fists with a raise eyebrow: each about the size of his head, with great big thorns sprouting from the knuckles. Man, what the hell, it’s like with every passing year, the crowd gets crazier and the participants get funkier.

The guy takes a swing before the host finishes counting down, teeth bared.

A weighty hush descends upon the audience. As one, they hold their collective breath--- as if the blow is coming towards them, not the seemingly frail figure facing it.

They cannot believe what they are seeing.

Shou dances like a flicker of light into the air,  spinning to his own laws of gravity. He floats gracefully toward the challenger,  now unable to tip his thick neck back far enough to see the blow coming from above. There is a hissing sound, like tearing silk, or the zing of a blade being drawn, and an arc of red rises high above the crowd before coming down, hot and wet, followed by a heavy thud hitting the floor. Several members of the audience wipe at their faces in mute shock, palms coming away damp with the smell of iron.

The whole room once again erupts with hysterical yelling and clapping. Above the deafening sound, the host is  shouting something inarticulate, edging the crowd on.

Shou looks down on his arms, noting the familiar pattern of dark stripes and dots shifting in and out of focus. He’s never had the chance to look into a mirror when he fights. But Erika once commented what a terrible shame it was that his full gear didn’t come with fur and a tail.

Yeah right, Shou snorts, she’s one to talk, she shares most of her genes with lizards for god’s sake.

Tora is still standing upright, which is a good sign. His mouth hanging comically open, eyes the size of saucers. Shou pins him with a look, grinning, knowing full well his sharp incisors are on display.

Don’t you look away now, he thinks, heart thumping, the scent of warm blood is making his gum itch.

Look at me, the real me, the one you’ve never seen before. The Phoenix that everyone fears and worships in equal measures.

 

 

 

His next rival is roughly the same size as him; wiry, with an unblinking gaze that makes one’s skin crawl. Shou narrows his eyes, catching the faint iridescent glow to those pupils when he tilts his head a certain way. Instinctively he takes a step to the side, angling away from the direct line of attack.

They start to circle one another, neither willing to dish out the first blow, movements falling soundlessly into perfect mirror images. The crowd gets fidgety before long, calling out insults and cheers, with a few piercing whistles thrown in.

The guy finally takes the plunge, a powerful left hook that leaves his right side suspiciously wide open. Shou traps the punch in one hand, wincing a bit at the slimy texture of his skin. From the corner of his eyes, he catches a minute tensing, and  promptly cranes his neck backwards, spine bowing into a smooth curve.

An acidic smell hits his nose, the crowd draws in a sharp hiss in unison. Shou takes a swipe with his left hand, lengthened nails catching his opponent’s torso, leaving five angry gashes.

The other man staggers back in pain. Shou spares a glance sideways, catching sight of the cage bars directly behind---one of them burnt clean through in the middle, with smoke still rising off the charred ends.

Ouch, he wrinkles his nose, nasty. Does no one has manners anymore? Spitting in the ring, seriously.

Before the guy recovers, he delivers a lightning fast spin kick, aiming at the side where he’s injured, earning a pained grunt in return.

Another spray of toxic saliva misses him by a few precious millimetres. Shou kicks out, foot landing square in the other’s stomach, then snatches up an arm, adding a vicious twist and pull. The joint dislocates neatly, sending the guy sprawling onto his back, half-passed out already.

The announcer shouts for another combatant to take up the challenge,  a sentiment eagerly echoed by the screaming onlookers.

 

 

Not all of his fights have gone as smoothly. By the time the last contender steps into the ring, Shou’s nursing quite a few spectacular bruises, and a missing tooth. At least he hopes no one has noticed him favouring his left leg yet. The travelling and sporadic diet has definitely taken a toll. With any luck, it shouldn’t take more than a good night’s rest to recover.

Provided that he survives tonight in one piece.

And they sure have saved the best until the last. Shou bites down on the inside of his cheek, eyeing this big, mean-looking Mutant with weariness: muscles straining against tanned skin, all harsh, flat lines and deadly angles. And that’s before you take into account the twin pieces of metal moulded to his elbows.

Under any other circumstances, Shou would be sucking his teeth in awe, appreciating the sight of glinting metal flowing into smooth, intricate joints. Now he shifts from foot to foot, testing his weight---He can’t take a direct hit, not now, not from those babies. Even with his accelerated tissue repair, he’d be fatally slowed down.

Of course, that’s when the opponent moves in, raining down blows with both fists.

Shou ducks and dodges, evading each powerful attack by virtue of his reflexes and sheer, dumb luck. Just before he gets backed into a corner, he leaps, limbs extended, hooking onto the iron bars overhead then flips back down, switching their positions. He fits in a couple of solid punches to the guy’s kidneys as soon as he lands, and narrowly misses having a kneecap taken out when the rival swirls around with a snarl of fury.

They are locked in stalemate, strength versus speed, and Shou knows, just knows he doesn’t have long. He could sense a venomous change in the crowd’s mood too, shifting into something darker, hungrier. They are not deterred by the prospect of death, rather, they revel in it, sharks scenting blood.  

It’s a split second decision, and almost as soon as it’s taken shape in his head, his enemy makes it for him.

He sees the blow coming as if it’s happening underwater, a rippling reflection. Dimly he registers a crushing pressure in his shoulder, before pain blooms like a particularly nasty vine, lacing through muscles and bones.

There is a faint look of surprise on the other man’s face, brows drawing together in confusion. Shou doesn’t stop to ponder what it means, and thrusts his free hand in with all his might.

He feels the sickening crunch of ribs, a sticky warmth engulfs his palm, flowing over his wrist and eventually drips down, tick tick ticking to the floor.

It’s only afterwards that he recalls the frantic tapping against his fingertips, the squishy, meaty mess that he’s sunken half of his hand through.

It’s a heart, a live, beating heart.

He bites back a scream as the pressure in his shoulder suddenly withdraws, leaving a gaping hole behind. Everything is happening in a blur: people climbing into the ring to drag the body away, hands pressing into his wound to stench the blood flow, voices screeching…

Then he’s moving, somehow, staggering forward and collapsing into familiar arms. He lifts his eyes with difficulty, and zeros in on Tora---his normally impassive face shadowed, taut, a whole tangle of emotions chasing one another in quick succession---it’s making Shou’s head spin. So he falls back into bravado by habit, half grinning half grimacing,

‘Well, buddy, what can I say, you shoulda seen the other guy?’


	9. Chapter 9

Matt bursts into the office, breathless, dollar signs practically flickering in his eyes.

‘Phoenix! Oh man, you were magnificent, magnificent I say! Still the best, no doubt about that!’

Tora takes a step forward, as if to shield Shou from the guy’s flailing arms.

‘Stop the yammering already,’ Shou leans his head against Tora’s hip, bone-tired, ‘we had a deal, remember?’

‘Yes, yes of course. I just need some time okay? Can’ click my fingers and make things pop out of in thin air.’

‘You have three days.’

‘Come on,’ Matt whines, ‘I need a week at least.’

‘Five.’

Matt sags into a chair, ‘Fine. Five days. Where are you staying?’

‘I’ll come and meet you then,’ Shou stands up, albeit a bit wobbly, ‘don’t you worry.’

 

 

 

He flops down on the bed, boots and all, every atom in his body groaning in relief.

Once Tora has gingerly peeled away the ruined vest, Shou peers down to assess the damage: the bleeding has stopped, he can feel the familiar twinge of flesh knitting back together, slower than he’d prefer but it’s definitely happening.

Tora reappears with a glass of water and a towel. Shou sighs in approval when he starts wiping away the blood and grime. The warm dampness feels heavenly against sore muscles.

He drifts off for a moment or two, and jerks awake by the sensation of something soft and dry caressing his cheek.

Shou squints; Tora’s face swimming into view, close enough he has to screw his eyes shut to avoid getting dizzy.

The touch comes again, this time against his throat, just a fleeting pressure, barely there.

It takes Shou an embarrassing length of time to realize it’s Tora’s lips, travelling feather-light across his skin. Shou freezes, wanting to laugh at how juvenile the gesture is, or perhaps say something sarcastic, and yet unable to do either. When he finally trusts himself enough to speak, he hardly recognizes his own voice,

‘You stopped him, didn’t you? At the very end.’

Tora holds his gaze, defiant. Shou exhales; well, at least no one can accuse anyone else of not fighting fair tonight. He looks away first.

‘…thank you.’

A kiss falls to the tender new skin on his shoulder, Shou squirms,

‘I’m, not up for much at the moment.’ He coughs, feeling a blush creeping up his ears.

Tora ignores him, dropping another to his side, where the bruises are already fading into ugly yellow patches. It tickles, and it’s absolutely ridiculous that it’s making something lodge in Shou’s throat.

He concentrates on breathing through the lump, slow and steady.

When Tora finishes by kissing his right knee, and crawls back up, Shou lifts a hand to cradle the back of his head, voice barely above a whisper, softer than he’s ever heard himself.

‘Hey…’

 Tora’s eyes are almost black in the dim light, but up close Shou can see the reluctant specks of green and hazel, fallen leaves on an autumn pond.

He gulps once, attempting a full sentence,  

‘I had to do it, you know that, right?’

Tora doesn’t reply (he rarely does, not with words anyways), only presses his mouth to Shou’s. Not the usual heated duel of tongues, not a prelude to fumbling, feverish exploration. This is just something Shou could imagine curling his fingers around, cupping it in his palms, something for safekeeping.

He shivers, and lets Tora snake a careful arm around his middle, tiny puffs of breath evening out against the side of his neck.

It’s not cuddling if neither of them says it out aloud.

 

 

 

 

So maybe I wanted to give you something other than the desperation---

 

 

The motel clerk lends them a map, dog-eared and greasy with age. Shou spends the days after studying it, coming up with routes out of the country, borders they could cross at night, dark forest trails where they can move unseen, disappear off the radar.

Tora, on the other hand, is infinitely more relaxed. And Shou secretly delights in feeling him stirring awake, drowsy and desiring, in the half light of early mornings, not a sliver of shadow behind his guileless eyes.

 

 

‘Did she do this for you?’

Tora peels his eyes open at that, all pupils and liquid heat, a flush spreading from the curve of his cheekbones to his chest.

Rather than explaining, Shou ducks down, mouthing the tip of his cock. Tora almost whimpers, hands fisting the scratchy sheets. Smirking, Shou pulls off deliberately to kiss the sharp juts of his hipbones, sucking bruises into the tender flesh. Delighted when Tora tosses and arches, finding no words to voice his frustration. Even though Shou could feel it, a live wire just beneath his skin, snaps and crackles at every touch.

He bites and tastes his way up, across Tora’s trembling stomach, thumbs rubbing soothing circles along the creases at the top of his thighs.

The curve of Tora’s bare throat looks positively inviting, thrown back against the pillows. Shou puts his lips at the pulse point, tasting fresh sweat and salty skin, before licking a line to the corner of his jaw, putting his mouth as close to Tora’s ear as possible without actually touching.

‘It’s called, a blow job.’ He purrs, nosing into the patch of damp skin, barely suppressing a grin, ‘now watch and learn.’

With that, he slithers back down, this time sliding his mouth all the way down the shaft, flattening his tongue against the vein on the underside, which earns him a choked off moan in response.

Tora’s hand drops to his head, not pulling or urging, just holding on, as if to anchor himself. It’s hurried and without finesse---he can’t even keep up a rhythm, hips lifting off the bed in tiny, involuntary jerks---but it’s the hottest thing Shou ever remembers doing.

After, Tora pulls him up, shaky but insistent. When he kisses him it’s almost reverent, as if Shou’s just done something miraculous.

 

 

 

Shou looks down on the tiny squares of pictures---the blurry faces staring back at him almost as unfamiliar as the names printed next to them.

And yet, this is probably the single most important piece of paper he’s ever held in his hand: the shiny proof his humble and lawful existence. There's a sudden bubble of hysterical laughter sitting in Shou's throat, waiting to come out. 

He pockets them both, walks out without a backward glance. Neither he nor Matt bothers with pleasantries, see you when I see you; this is a clean birth, everything cut away, forged anew. And they both know there is no coming back.

 

 

The spot Shou’s chosen is a deserted bridge, spanning the slow running river on fat stone pillars, thick enough to withstand the weight of freight trains, which have stopped running a few decades back. The little pedestrian path hanging off the side barely wide enough for one person;  a bad start to any escape plans, if things should go haywire.

But it also means there is only one lonely pillbox guarding it on the west side. You have to pick your battles, Shou concludes.

They play the part of hiking tourists, complete with beanies and backpacks, flashlights hanging off their belts.

The duty officer is suitably bored, doesn’t even look up when they hand over the relevant documents, fighting off a yawn when he scans their passports.

Shou watches his every move from the corner of his eyes, feigning disinterest. The insistent ticking of the wall clock sounds deafening to his ears, looming footsteps down a one-way track. He starts singing in his head to distract himself, some random tune he’s picked off the radio, _what the night is thinking. It’s thinking of love._ Tora cringes, Shou accidently steps onto his toe, hard.

After what feels like hours, the officer slides the passport back across the counter, still half asleep,

‘Bit late for camping, isn’t it?’

 ‘I heard that it’s worth it, for the sunrise.’

‘Alright, I’d be careful if I were you.’

Shou’s heart skips a beat, he plasters a smile on quickly enough, ‘huh? What do you mean?’

‘Gets pretty slippery at night. Don’t cut yourself on the handrails, you’d need a good few tetanus shots.’

‘Definitely don’t want that.’ Shou shudders dramatically.

‘Off you go then, have fun.’

They don’t need to be told twice. Shou resists the urge to run as fast as he can, away from prying eyes; it will never do to arouse suspicion now by scrambling like spooked animals.

Besides, the guard is right; the footbath is pretty tricky to manoeuvre, thanks  to the thick mist rising off the river.

So they walk, one foot in front of the other, the artificial glow of the pillbox soon swallowed up by the surrounding darkness. Strange shadows looming and shifting as the wind whistles, the cloud-shrouded moon their only companion.

With every step the ancient screws groan under their combined weight, incidentally, they’re also the only force standing between them and a spectacular free-fall. It’s nerve-wracking, to say the least.

For one breathless moment, he remembers Jackal, the wolf kid---they emptied a whole cartridge of Blue Devil in him,  and he just sort of, degenerated in front of Shou’s eyes, a stinky puddle of meat soup.

A distant buzzing snaps him back to the present. Shou looks up sharply in the direction of the noise, squinting: nothing seems amiss, inky sky, a few faint stars, winking half-heartedly,  a dark indistinct dot, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it.

He freezes, stomach lurching.

A helicopter.

The passports are tagged.

He doesn’t waste any time cursing his own misjudgement, just grabs for Tora and launches into a full sprint, no point pretending anymore.

There are about fifty paces left, sixty at most, they can make it.

Shou skids to a halt half way through, every muscle straining tight. Some animal instincts telling him to stop right there,  red a-fucking-lert going ‘back up! back up!’

The very air in front of them goes white hot and explodes, with a shock that sucks all the oxygen out, filling the gap with a wave of sound and heat so strong they’re knocked flat onto their backs.

Shou watches in mute horror as the bridge folds in on itself, metal and concrete collapsing, falling into the river in huge, smoking chunks.

He shouts out, nerves strung too tight to care he’s damn near screeching,

‘Tora!’

The last piece of concrete stills shakily mid-air, bridging the gap between them and the cliff on the other side. Shou doesn’t hesitate, just springs forward, resolutely refusing to look down. He has one second to appreciate that, to Tora's credit, he doesn't hang back, simply gives himself over to the last dash.

By the time they touch down on soft, muddy ground, Shou’s legs give out. Tora crashes into him unceremoniously, tumbling them both forward. Shou uses the momentum to roll them into a dip, the prickly undergrowth shielding them from the search lights, the bullets raining down.

But that won’t last long.

Shou looks up, hands roaming to check any serious damage; there is a thin trail of blood running down from Tora’s nostril, but Shou can’t detect any gaping hole in his body, which is a small comfort, for now. He looks shaken, brow damp with sweat. Shou cups his jaw, rubbing a thumb across those cheekbones, tramping down all the crazy, frantic things bubbling in his veins, all the apocalyptic statements people say when they’re running out of time.

‘I need you to hold them back, just a bit longer, till we find a better hiding place. Can you do that?’

Tora’s eyes are shimmering pools of fire, lit up from the inside.

He nods, once.

Shou smiles, that last minute look which is intended to convey so much, but which is only a tight, inscrutable smile.

‘Alright kiddo, let’s get out of here.’ 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go here for additional notes:  
> http://chimerari.livejournal.com/29401.html


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